


If you like Piña Coladas...

by itsallAvengers



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Crack, Cruise Ships, Drunk Sex, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Miscommunication, Steve Gets Drunk And Makes Bad Life Choices, Tony Stark Does What He Wants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 12:43:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallAvengers/pseuds/itsallAvengers
Summary: After being essentially blackmailed onto a first-class cruise by Bucky under the guise of 'taking a vacation' and 'getting some well-earned rest' or whatever stupid bullshit it was that his dumb best friend told him, Steve Rogers ends up alone, on a boat heading to the Caribbean. He gets on expecting to hate it.He does.There isonegood thing about the trip, though.





	If you like Piña Coladas...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fd1922](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fd1922/gifts).



> for @fd1922 on tumblr, who asked me to write about the misadventures of Steve on a cruise ship!  
> Also, would just like to note, I know jack shit about boats, safety on boats, or how long it takes to sail from point A to point B. Forgive me, but this probably won't be accurate.

Steve chucked his bags down onto the bed, flung his shoes into the farthest corner of the cabin and then groaned very loudly.

This had been a terrible, _terrible_ idea.

Underneath him, he felt the minute shifting of the floor as it bobbed up and down on the water. He was in one of the best suites, yes, but still. It didn’t take away the fact that he hadn’t ever found the feeling of being in a boat to be particularly pleasant.

God, how Bucky had managed to coerce him into this was still an absolute fucking mystery to him. How drunk must he have been? And how goddamn sad must Bucky have looked for Steve to go ahead and fall for it?

 _It’s just a few days,_ he told himself as he lay his head back against the fluffy pillow and looked at the ceiling, _just a few days and then, if it’s truly as bad as you think, then you can just get off at the Caribbean and grab the next plane home._

At the time, he’d only entered the art competition because it had offered a cash prize. Six months ago, he’d been perilously low on that stuff, and he’d been doing whatever he could to try and make ends meet, including entering shitty competitions in the hope of winning.

Funny thing was, though, it turned out that he did. Win, that was. A thousand dollars and a ticket on a first-class cruise going from New York to the Caribbean. By the time he’d got the news, however, he’d already managed to find himself a stable job in a graphic design company, but the extra thousand bucks sure had been nice. Then he’d gotten the ticket in the mail too, and suddenly he realized he had absolutely no idea what he was going to do with it.

“You could… y’know, _go on it,”_ Bucky had told him drily, as he’d plucked the ticket from Steve’s hands and looked at it curiously, “it’d do ya some good to take a break for a bit, see the sun. When was the last time you went on vacation?”

Steve had said no, the first time around. But then Bucky had just kept on goddamn _nagging_ , and when Bucky nagged, he didn’t hold back. Steve found himself somewhat unable to argue Bucky’s points- conveniently forgetting that actually, he didn’t particularly enjoy boats, and also, there was the fact that he was absolutely incapable of talking to new people. Full stop. End of. No room for argument. The last friend he’d made had been six months ago, and that had only been because Sharon was the only one at Steve’s new job who’d been just as poor as him, and they’d had a nice bonding session over the quite frankly extortionate price of toilet paper.

Of course, when Bucky was giving him shit like ‘ _I worry about you, man’_ and _‘you work too hard, and I don’t want you to go the way my ma’ did- heart attack at thirty nine, is that what you want Steve? Is THAT what you wanna do to me?’_ then it was pretty fucking hard for Steve to say no.

He hated Bucky. Enabling son of a bitch.

Sighing again, he rolled off the bed and wandered around his room. It was big. Very grand. There was a security cabinet that had a mechanism that couldn’t just be broken into with a bobby pin, and there was even fucking complimentary champagne. Jesus. Steve had never been to a place that served anything other than complimentary mints. Or half-melted chocolate.

The bathroom was grand as well. A shower with at least ten different settings- nine more than what Steve was used to. He took a piss, and the toilet flushed on its own, and that was disconcerting enough that he nearly got his dick stuck in the zip of his pants, which certainly didn’t help to improve his mood much.

Fucking rich people. Were they too lazy to flush their own damn toilets now? Jesus.

At least the view looked pretty good. His windows were fairly large for a ship, and so he could see out for miles and miles, all blue sky and even bluer seas. He was almost certain he’d be wanting to dive headfirst into it by the third day at least, but that was another matter entirely.

As that thought crossed his mind, his phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his phone wearily. Like the guy was reading his damn mind, Bucky’s face popped up on his screen:

 

_Ten bucks says you’re sulking in your room right now._

**So what if I am? This is how people spend their time on cruises.**

_Go the fuck out and meet people, you lug._

**I literally hate you for doing this to me.**

_It’s in your best interest, pal._

Steve dialed his number, swore at him, and then put the phone down immediately. The boat was due to set off in less than ten minutes, and whilst getting drunk in his cabin all alone sounded appealing in a sad sort of way, Steve knew that Bucky would only kill him if he found out about it. Whether he wanted it or not, he was here now. So really, he might as well just go explore. Maybe there would be a gym he could go to. Cruise ships had gyms, right? If they had self flushing toilets, there had to be a fucking gym.

Right. Okay. Seven days. He had seven days to fill out with… Whatever he could find to entertain him on a boat.

He was an adult. He could do that.

 

 

 

 

_

 

 

 

 

The deck was littered with people, already sunbathing in various states of undress. They had barely even left port yet, but for them, the holiday had already begun. There was a huge pool on the starboard part of the deck, and a bar just opposite, selling fancy cocktails with swirly straws and little umbrellas. Steve leaned against the railings and people-watched for a few minutes, feeling the sea breeze as it floated gently over his face. Most of the people looked impeccable- toned bodies and big butts and Gucci bikinis that were essentially bits of string and very small triangles, and Steve could _smell_ the wealth on them. Bucky had informed him that this was a very expensive cruise, and the fact he was going to be on board would be awesome, but in reality, Steve just felt as if he didn’t really belong. Yeah, he was built, but he’d bought his cargo pants from Walmart and his white shirt was probably a little closer to the grey end of the spectrum now he thought about it. Mostly, he just felt uncomfortable.

Pushing himself off the railing, he wandered around further. There were a few ping-pong tables, a sign that said: _‘no running, jumping and strictly no climbing on the rails’_ and then another one just below that informed everyone there was a theatre below deck. None of it looked particularly interesting to Steve though.  
What did people even _do_ on holidays? He’d spent so long working that he’d… well, he wasn’t quite sure how to relax anymore.

So instead, he shuffled backward and forward uncomfortably on his feet for a few minutes, just looking out to sea and hoping no one was wondering why there was a creepy dude on deck who hadn’t moved from his position in over five and a half minutes.

“Fuck,” he cursed to himself very quietly, looking down at his hands. He couldn’t exactly spend seven days doing this, could he? He should probably…. Relax. Talk to some people. Make friends and shit.

But first, alcohol. There was no way in hell he was doing this without it.

Pushing himself away from the railings with a small sigh, he sidestepped a couple walking past him and made a beeline for the bar that he’d seen earlier. A few people shot him funny looks, but he figured he probably earnt them. He wasn’t exactly dressed for a cruise- although that being said, how did cruise-goers even dress? He didn’t want to walk around in a speedo. That just felt indecent.

The bar loomed up ahead, and he breathed a short sigh of relief, speeding up his pace. At that moment, alcohol seemed like a very good idea indeed. However, a very strange thing happened when he was about halfway there. He found his feet suddenly glued to the ground, and his mouth fell open in surprise at the sight he saw before him as it passed him in a strange human-shaped whirlwind; a flash of white teeth and a glitter of sunlight as it bounced off the aviators that perched atop a perfect button nose.

The man crossed the deck hurriedly, his hair flicking around and framing his face in the light wind. Like Steve, this man wasn’t dressed for a cruise either- he was decked out in jeans and a black leather jacket that was entirely inappropriate for a New York summer, but he somehow managed to pull it off anyway. People stared at him too, but Steve had a feeling it was for somewhat of a different reason.

That being, he was so goddamn hot that Steve no longer knew how to work his legs.

There was no way he could go over to the bar now. Not now _he_ was there. Steve would do something stupid, he knew he would. So instead, he just kept a wary distance, waiting and watching as the man got his order, long and agile fingers tapping along the glass surface of the bar and eyes flicking all over the place as he waited for his drink. He had a very nice mouth, Steve noted. And perfectly shaped facial hair. He didn’t usually go for that, but damn. This dude made it work.

God, he really hoped no one was looking at him as he gawped openly at a stranger.

It took a few more minutes until the man finally managed to get his order: A long, tall glass of what appeared to be a Pina Colada, equipped with a curly straw and umbrella. It totally went against all of his aesthetic, and yet at the same time, Steve thought he suited it.

Of course, the gorgeous man then had to go and turn around, spotting Steve through the crowd and catching his eye as he stared shamelessly.

Steve felt himself freeze up, unable to look away as he continued to stare, now slightly horror-struck, at the man across the deck. Said man in question was looking back at him, curious, but he didn’t exactly seem freaked out. He almost looked amused. He opened his mouth and clamped his lips down around the straw, taking a long sip of his cocktail. Then he winked.

Steve, thank the lord, managed to snap back into himself. He quickly turned away, horrified, and felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He was never going to look at anyone ever again; that was his new rule whilst on board this stupid ship. This stupid, terrible, _cursed_ ship. Jesus Christ.

He risked a glance back, just for a moment and ready to turn around if he caught even the slightest glance of the man- but when he dared to search the crowd, the person he was looking for was no longer there.

Steve turned back to the bar and sighed. This was going to be a very long seven days.

 

 

 

 

_

 

 

 

 

Over the course of the next few days, because he was cursed, Steve saw an awful lot of the Pina Colada man.

Just in passing, mostly. When he was eating in the restaurant, Pina Colada man was also there, sat across the room. When he wandered through the deck, Pina Colada man passed him by. When he was sat at the pool, Pina Colada man was in his stupid red swimming trunks, showing off his perfect ass as he swam around. It was infuriating, and _Steve could not stop looking._

The worst thing about it was that the Pina Colada man _knew_ that. He knew, and he enjoyed it, quite clearly. He winked at Steve constantly. He made a point to pull a knowing face whenever he caught Steve staring at him. He hadn’t actually spoken to Steve, but Steve still got the feeling that the Pina Colada man was playing a game with him. He was trying to get Steve to go and talk to him; Steve could see that pretty plainly.

Unluckily for both of them, Pina Colada man was greatly underestimating the power Steve’s social anxiety held over him. Steve had yet to do more than roll his eyes and smile at the man from across the room.

But he was working his way up. He was. Maybe just… give it a few more days.

The cruise itself wasn’t actually as awful as Steve had thought when he’d first stepped on, as he’d found out after his first night. Okay, so he had made absolutely no friends or talked to anyone since boarding, but there were a ton of channels on the TV in his room, and it was the comfiest bed he’d slept in in about five years. He’d been spending a lot of his time just doing absolutely nothing in his room, which was absolutely fine by him. It had been far too long since he’d done that. Of course, some would probably tell him to take advantage of the cruise itself and the things it offered, but in all honesty, Steve didn’t even like the sea all that much. He’d boarded this ship purely to shut Bucky up, but if he could watch old Bridezilla reruns and drink expensive champagne for free while he was at it, then he would happily say that it had been a trip well-spent.

At about 7pm on the third day, Steve decided he’d head out to the bar and see if anything was happening that was worth hanging around for. The pamphlet had said there was a band that played on Wednesdays, and Steve always appreciated some live music. Plus, the night was lovely and warm. He figured he might as well.

Of course, as soon as he got there, that was about when things started going wrong.

He didn’t know how he did it, or why God hated him so much, but it seemed he just attracted the creeps of the world. Whenever he went out, they seemed to consider him fair game- maybe it was the nervous way he held himself; those sharks could smell fear, he was sure of it.

This particular shark was about ten years older than him, and she was currently standing far too close for his liking. He’d managed all of ten minutes of peace before she’d sidled up to him, smiling brightly and flicking her hair all over the place. And listen- he knew he was attractive, okay, he was _very_ aware- but he’d been subtly showing her how very not interested he was for at least fifteen minutes now, but she was either as dense as a brick or just ignoring him, because she had yet to back off and leave him the fuck alone.

“It’s a beautiful ship, isn’t it,” she asked him, her voice sultry as she leaned closer and twirled a strand of heavily bleached hand through her hair. _Fuck off fuck off fuck off,_ he wanted to tell her as he took yet another step back. He couldn’t quite force the words out, though- God knows how she might react to that, and he didn’t want to cause a scene here. “In fact, there’s quite a lot of beautiful things here, aren’t there?”

He smiled tightly. “If you say so,” he told her, placing his drink back on the bar and then moving to stand up. He was done. So much for a nice night- seemed he couldn’t catch a break wherever he went, not just in New York. “You know- it’s getting quite late. I think I’m going to head back to my cabin. It was lovely meeting you.”

He began to turn, but she caught his wrist and whined like a fucking dog. “Oh, come on, stay a little longer,” she told him petulantly, before her eyes lit up and she grinned. “Or I could come with you to your cabin? I think we’d have a great time, Steve.”

He gaped at her in shock. Is that what strangers said to one another these days? He quite obviously wasn’t interested. She had to realize that. Was she just hoping to get lucky anyway? How was Steve supposed to even _respond_ to that?

He opened and shut his mouth, brain freezing up. She seemed to take that as a confirmation, however, because suddenly she was very, very close. “Let’s have some fun, darling,” she whispered.

“Nope,” he blurted, stepping away very fast, “no thank you, no, I’m okay-“

“Oh, come on, you totally want to-“

He gawped at her, trying to choke out a coherent response, but before he even could, he suddenly felt someone step up to his left side, bumping their shoulders together. He turned fast, and then his mouth dropped open once again.

Ah. There was the Pina Colada man. Again.

“Oh, there you are,” he told Steve smoothly, and wow, that was the first time he’d heard the guy speak. That was a very nice voice. “I was wondering where you’d wandered off to.”

Steve stared down at him, wondering what the fuck was going on. Why was he choosing this moment to actually say something? It wasn’t exactly the most opportune moment-

Oh.

He was saving Steve’s ass.

Catching on, Steve breathed out quickly and smiled. “Yeah,” he said, “Sorry. I was just getting a drink, and I got… distracted.”

Pina Colada man shot a dubious look over to the woman in front of them both, who now looked slightly put-out by the interruption. The strangely amused look that Pina Colada guy threw her way didn’t exactly help, and her small frown turned into a full blown look of disdain as the man gave her a judgemental once-over that undoubtedly made the woman feel ten times smaller and less attractive than what she actually was.

“Well,” he said with a dismissive shrug, turning back to Steve and completely cutting the woman off, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to monopolize your attention for a little bit. I have to show you something. Sorry,” he threw the apology behind his shoulder half-heartedly at the woman, and before either of them could respond, he curled his hand gently around Steve’s wrist and then pulled him away.

Steve, bewilderedly, but still vaguely grateful, followed.

They trailed away from the bar, wandering across the deck. Steve didn’t say anything at all- too dumbstruck by the events to even possibly think of something coherent. Pina Colada guy didn’t seem to mind though; he just looked back to Steve every few seconds and shot him small grins of amusement. It was only when the other man stopped moving and sat down that Steve realized they’d reached the restaurant on the other side of the boat. People were milling around, all dressed in their fancy clothes, and Steve, as usual, felt somewhat out of place in his plain T-shirt and jeans. But then again, Pina Colada guy was wearing the same thing, and he seemed to blend right in. Maybe it was a confidence thing.

“You wanna sit down?” Steve blinked, looking down and then to the spare chair that was being pointed out to him. He promptly fell into it, and then looked over to Pina Colada man.

He really was fucking beautiful. Damn.

“So I’m Tony,” he said finally, leaning forward and extending a hand. “Seemed like you were having a bit of trouble back there.”

Tony. That suited him. He was definitely a Tony. Tony was a nice name. “Steve,” he responded, extending his own hand and then shaking the offered hand. “And you assumed correctly. She was… very enthusiastic.”

Tony rolled his eyes, leaning back. He shot a small look at Steve and his mouth turned up. “And here I thought that my own brand of seduction was the only way to win your heart.”

Steve paused, thrown for a loop. What did he mean by that? Why would he be wanting to seduce Steve at all? “Can I ask what exactly that brand was?” He said, genuinely curious.

Tony just laughed. “Staring at you like an idiot and hauling ass to the pool whenever you were down there so I could try and show you how nice my ass looks?”

Steve couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing. A surprised bark, more from shock than anything else. He looked up at Tony, and then shook his head. “Believe me, I noticed how good your ass looks on the first day,” he said, the words rolling off his tongue surprisingly easy. Tony’s face was open, and he just looked… easy.

To talk to. Easy to talk to is what he meant.

“You know, you could’ve just said hi,” Tony told him wryly, leaning forward.

Steve cocked his head. “So could you.”

“I was being the gentleman!” Tony said adamantly, “I could literally feel the nervousness radiating off you. I figured it best to just leave you to come to me on your own terms.”

“Well that was dumb, because had it not been for that unfortunate conversation at the bar, I would have spent the rest of the week just staring at you,” Steve told him, breaking off to laugh at the same time Tony did. This felt sort of surreal. “You know, this is the first conversation I’ve had with another person in three days.”

Tony stopped, eyes widening. “Really? So you didn’t come with anyone?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I don’t know if you noticed this, but I’m kinda the odd one out here. I won my ticket in a contest months back,”

“Oh yeah?” Tony cocked his head, interested. “What was the contest for?”

Steve shrugged nonchalantly. “Just some art thing. I paint and draw and stuff. At the time, I’d been entering things left right and center. Needed the cash.” He tugged absently at the scratchy material of his Walmart wifebeater and then watched as Tony’s face lit up in delight.

“You can draw?” Tony breathed out, clapping his hands. “That’s awesome! You should show me sometime- your winning piece, I’d love to see that.”

They both continued to talk, getting to know one another fast and easy. Steve felt the minutes slip by and turn into hours; felt the night grow cooler and the people thin out as he continued to while away his time talking to the man he’d been gawping at for pretty much three days. He found at that Tony, too, was traveling alone, and that he had also been coerced into it by a concerned and pushy friend.

“Pepper says I was working myself to the ground,” Tony waved a hand lazily, the other one twirling the straw of his long island iced tea. Steve noticed absently that they had both managed to get through quite a few of those over the night- he was feeling more drunk than he had been in a while, actually. “Kept mentioning heart ‘tacks an’ stress an’ shit… she always manages to look so sad when she’s manipulating me, damn her-“

“Exactly!” Steve clicked a finger and pointed at him enthusiastically, “Buck always puts on this goddamn puppy face, makin’ me think he’s gonna start cryin’ or some shit… I don’t even like boats! Why am I here?”

Tony laughed, but then he stopped and looked at Steve for a long time. Eventually, he said: “I’m glad you are though. Everyone else here’s a stuck-up prick.”

Steve snorted, and Tony’s eyes crinkled up as he observed Steve and ran a hand through his hair. It was lovely hair, that was for sure. Steve wanted to touch it.

 _Don’t touch his hair,_ the rational part of his head told him firmly, whilst the drunker, lizard part of him just sort of growled and pouted petulantly. It was only when Tony suddenly stilled and then looked up at him that Steve realized the lizard brain had won out. Because his hand was stretched out, and his fingers were running through Tony’s hair, gentle and curious and easy.

He stopped, wondering what to do about that.

“You’re very pretty,” he blurted in the end, like that would somehow make things better. His hand still had not left Tony’s hair.

Tony stared at him, blinking like a deer caught in the headlights. Then Steve tightened his grip in the other man’s hair, just a fraction, just out of curiosity, and Tony breathed in very sharply. That sounded like a good kind of noise, and Steve got a little lost in the flutter of Tony’s lashes as he sucked in a breath of air.

“You know what I think?” Tony said loudly, suddenly jerking upright and then downing the remainder of his cocktail. Steve watched his throat, rather transfixed. “I think we should go back to your room. I think… I think we should do that right now.”

Steve nodded, but then gasped. “What if people see us?” He said, imagining Bucky and how much he would laugh if he found out Steve had gotten shitfaced with the guy who had saved him from being hit on by some creepy woman, and was now going to probably have sex with him.

Tony shot him a long look, swaying a little where he stood. “Then we’ll…” he paused, thinking it through for a moment before settling on: “-We’ll tell ‘em we’re playing dares.” He grinned, like that was the most foolproof lie in the world, and then extended a hand out to Steve.

That seemed like a solid argument, Steve thought to himself, nodding at Tony sagely. He grabbed Tony’s hand and stood, feeling the boat sway as he did so. Must have been the waves. He was usually good with his drinks, although he could admit he didn’t have cocktails that often or in that quantity. But he was pretty sure he wasn’t drunk.

…Wasn’t _that_ drunk, anyway.

“Okay,” he said happily, “let’s go and play dares,” he declared to the remaining people in the restaurant, waving at them all lazily. They all shot him confused looks, but Tony pulled him out of the door before he could do anything else, and Steve smiled as the cool air hit his face.

Okay. Maybe cruises weren’t even that bad after all, he decided. He was about to have sex for the first time in ages, and Tony was _really_ hot. That had to be one positive thing about the trip, right?

Maybe things were looking up.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

He was wrong.

 

Things were not looking up. Things were so, so not looking up.

 

 _Ow_.

 

He groaned, a clumsy hand pressing into his head and then instantly flying away when it caused a huge burst of pain to shoot from behind his eyes. Ow ow fuck _ow_ , Goddamn, had he brained himself on a wall last night?

Oh god. He felt sick. He hoped to God he wasn’t going to throw up. It had been years since he’d thrown up from drinking- the last time, he’d probably been in highschool.

Hell, this was so _embarrassing_.

He rolled onto his stomach and tugged at the uncomfortably tight collar of his tshirt, whining sadly. Literally every part of him was in pain. And his shirt was too small, which either meant he’d gained a hell of a lot of weight over the past few hours or the shirt wasn’t even his-

His eyes shot open, and his brain threw a jumbled set of distorted memories back at him in quick concession, forcing a groan of horror from his lips. He slapped his hand over his face and then rolled, peering over his bed and toward the floor.

Yep. There was Tony. Just where Steve had left him.

Oh no. That meant…

“Oh my fucking God,” Steve whined, loud enough that it made Tony stir underneath him. Steve dropped his head into his hands, mortified at the recollection of events that swirled into his mind in that moment.

He couldn’t believe it. There was no way he could ever have done what his brain was telling him he’d done. No way at all.

There was a sniffling noise, and then a mumbled “St’ve?”

He blinked, waiting a few seconds before grunting in confirmation. Tony breathed out heavily, and then moaned. “Son’va bitch, wha’d we _drink_?”

Steve turned, glancing at the empty bottles of champagne and spirits that they’d taken from his minibar. “Too much,” he muttered, “far, _far_ too much.”

Tony made a few incoherent sounds from the floor, and Steve just rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling through his half-shut eyes. He was very much hoping that what he could remember was simply a very vivid memory of something that had nothing to do with him. A strange hallucination, perhaps just the remnants of a dream he’d had that night.

Because there was no way, on heaven or Earth, that Steve Rogers would ever have allowed himself to be dared into running across the deck of a cruise ship completely, utterly, 100% butt-naked.

There was no way.

Nope.

“Tony,” he asked quietly, breathing out slowly and trying to keep his cool as the memories started to trickle back in, “did we… did we get sent to boat-jail last night?”

Underneath him, there was a short silence. And then, surprisingly, a short bark of laughter. “Oh my God,” Tony said hoarsely, and Steve heard shuffling, before suddenly the sight of a messy head of curls popped into his vision as Tony sat up. He was grinning devilishly. “We did. Oh _wow_ , that is… did you really fucking do what I think you did?”

Steve glared at him, and then down at himself. At the shirt that was too tight for him, and printed with the ship’s company name over the chest.

At the time, it had seemed very funny. He remembered that much. Caught in Tony’s mouth, kissing rapidly and messily, pushing him against the wall and running his hands over smooth bare shoulders, the thought had flown suddenly into his drink-addled mind and made him choke on a laugh. At that point, however, he still hadn’t been quite drunk enough to follow through with it, not to mention the fact he was also rather preoccupied with other far more interesting things, and so had kept it to himself.

It was after they’d fucked, and Steve had decided he was bored and they should drink more, that the idea had come back to him.

“Hey,” he’d slurred, throwing back the last shot of vodka they’d balanced messily on the bed. He was sat cross-legged in front of Tony, who was swaying gently in a non-existent breeze and smiling dopily, his cheeks flushed and eyes shining. There was still a dark purple mark on his neck, and Steve’s thumb swiped across it absently. “We should actually play dares.”

Tony had blinked, confused. But then he’d laughed, and his eyes had glowed, and Steve had thought he was really beautiful. A perfect stranger, a lucky coincidence. Steve hadn’t been expecting sex on this trip _at all_ , and yet here they were. He was very much glad of the development. “You wanna… play dares?”

Steve had nodded, then. “M’booorrrrdeddd.”

“Hey!” Tony pouted, leaning forward and nipping Steve’s collar sulkily. “I'm not boring!”

Steve had huffed, wrapping his hands around Tony’s waist and pulling him closer. It felt easy. When he was sober, he could barely touch another person without overthinking it into apocalyptic proportions, but _now_ , now it was just simple. His hands fit into Tony’s waist, so into Tony’s waist his hands would go. Easy. “Think’ya th’least borin’ person I’ve ever met, darlin’,” he’d nipped Tony’s ear cheekily and then drawn back, a small grin on his lips, “but I wanna do somethin’… dumb.”

That had caused something mischievous to flash over Tony’s face, and he’d quickly popped off the cap of the miniature bottle of whiskey they’d taken from the minibar, throwing it back easily and exposing his throat. Steve watched him with his full attention, imagining things a gentleman should never think of as he did so, and then when Tony leaned forward and handed Steve the bottle, he finished off the last half with enthusiasm.

“I dare you,” Tony had said slowly, and with an easy grin on his face, “to get a tattoo.”

 

There was a terrible silence in Steve’s head as he sat, still as death in his bed, eyes slowly beginning to widen in horror. Oh no. He… surely he hadn’t gone and actually done that, right? Not whilst he was drunk anyway. He had _some_ impulse control.

Sitting up suddenly, he checked at his arms and legs with a frantic urgency, and then tugged off the scratchy shirt to expose his chest. No, no, not anywhere he could see, but- “Tony, tell me honestly… is there a tattoo on my face?” He leaned over the side of the bed and looked down, putting his head so close to Tony’s own that the other man squinted and then had to lean away, pushing Steve’s forehead with his hand.

“Back up, soldier, I can’t even see when you’re that close.” Tony rubbed his eyes and then looked at him, his gaze flicking over Steve’s face, neck and chest. Then he sat up further and put his hand on Steve’s neck, turning him around so that he could see his back.

Then he burst out laughing.

“What?” Steve jerked wildly, trying to see whatever it was that Tony had seen on his back. “Oh my god, what is it, what did I do-“

“No, chill, it’s alright,” Tony was still giggling, but his thumb swiped over a spot on Steve’s spine and then came into Steve’s line of sight, smudged in black. “It’s just marker pen. I think… I think I did this. Looks like my writing.”

Steve felt his heart skip a beat, and he sighed in relief. “Oh thank God. So not permanent, then?”

“Not permanent,” Tony shook his head and then pulled out his phone, snapping a picture before handing it over to Steve. “I think it should be, though. Truly a work of art, if you ask me.”

Steve took the phone out of Tony’s hands and then glanced at it. The picture Tony had snapped showed his back, littered in various doodles and patterns, including a few equations that didn’t make sense to Steve, and then finally, in the centre, a very large cartoon dick. It was captioned ‘FUck Oceaen-LinEr Cruisez sucks dick!’ and drawn in handwriting so messy it was barely even legible at all. Steve looked at it for a few moment, and then the memory of it came back to him. “The tattoo artist wouldn’t let me get tattooed when I was drunk,” he told Tony, palming a hand across his face. God, his head hurt. “So we came back and you told me you would give me one yourself.”

“Oh yeah,” Tony nodded sagely, and then laughed again. “It was a very good tattoo, in all fairness.”

 Steve huffed in bemusement, remembering the sensation of the pen in Tony’s hands, trailing across his spine. He’d been laying on his stomach on the bed, Tony resting his forearms against Steve’s bare shoulders as he worked intently. But that hadn’t been enough to distract them for long. Once the pen had gotten all dried out, Steve specifically remembered Tony flopping onto the bed next to him and then shooting Steve another devilish grin that had made Steve’s already shaky limbs even weaker.

“New dare?” Tony had asked sweetly.

It had all just been downhill from there.

 

Steve curled up into a ball, feeling his cheeks start to burn. “I got sent to boat jail,” he declared quietly, “for streaking on the top deck with my ass out .”

Tony was just laughing, which was really not fucking helpful. “You had everything out, sweetheart,” he said in amusement, “I think the passengers enjoyed it.”

Steve groaned. “I got sent to _boat jail,”_ he repeated, “how did this even happen? I didn’t even want to be on this stupid ship!”

“Hey, I got us out, didn’t I?” Tony asked him, patting his shoulder consolingly, “we were in there for an hour, tops, before I got them to let us out.”

“That is not the point!” Steve squeaked, sitting up and checking under the covers to see whether not he was still wearing pants. When he thankfully found that he was, he swung his legs off the bed and then got to his feet, going to the nearest wall and then banging his head against it. “The point is that I missed a week of important work for this stupid trip, and when I arrive I have no one to talk to, the pool is always too fucking full, I get harassed by weird older women who don’t know when someone ain’t interested and _then_ get drunk with a stranger and _sent to fucking boat jail!_ For streaking!”

Tony’s eyes widened, and he looked up at Steve from the floor, mouth twitching in amusement. “Someone doesn’t take their hangovers very well, do they?” He asked casually, leaning back on his elbows- and fuck, his eyes were bloodshot and his hair a mess, and there were ink smudges on his cheek but he was still so fucking gorgeous, Steve just wanted to grab him and kiss him all over.

Steve just grunted, knocking his head against the wall once more. Bucky told him that all the time. His friends made sure to stay out of his way the morning after hard nights of drinking. He was a notorious asshole. “This is all your fault,” he grumbled, pointing an accusing finger in Tony’s general direction. “You… led me astray. I do not make a habit of engaging in this sort of thing.”

Tony just snorted, rolling to his feet and then wandering over to Steve, putting his chin up against Steve’s shoulder. “What sort of thing _do_ you make a habit of engaging in, then?” He asked.

Steve sighed. “Using my impulse control.”

Tony just tutted, pulling away- not before he’d kissed Steve’s cheek quickly, however. “Boringgg,” he sing-songed. “Steve Rogers, I think you need to learn to live a little.”

“I think I live just the right amount, thank you,” Steve informed him grumpily, looking around his room in search of his suitcase. He was sure he’d packed some Advil in there somewhere. “God, Bucky is never going to let me live this down.”

“Bucky never has to know,” Tony informed him- until Steve pulled out his phone and then showed Tony the texts Steve had sent last night, begging his friend to bail him out of jail before remembering that that wasn’t actually how boat jail worked, and then finally telling him that he was going to have to spend the rest of his life living as a fugitive and that he loved Bucky very much.

Yeah. Not embarrassing at all.

Steve sighed, leaning against the wall. The skies were murky today- looked like a storm, which was just their luck. Knowing Steve’s track record, there would be a hurricane and they’d end up sinking, and the last thing he would ever have told his best friend was that he’d streaked down a public hallway whilst the person he’d been fucking a few hours back laughed hysterically from behind him. Not his finest moment, Steve could admit.

“I think we should eat. Perfect hangover cure,” Tony declared promptly, after a short silence. He patted Steve on the back, before pausing and then turning slightly warily. “If- I mean, that is if you _want_ to eat together. Sorry. I just… you’re the first person I’ve had a proper conversation with on this fucking boat, and I figured… obviously though, one-night-stand rules and everything, if you just want to-“

“Hey,” Steve turned around and reached out for his wrist, smiling tiredly, “I’d- I’d like breakfast. And you’re the first person I’ve had a decent conversation with too. Anyway-“ he raised an eyebrow and grinned, “I figure you owe me one after all that.”

Tony huffed, grabbing his wallet from where it was splayed over Steve’s nightstand and then turning back to Steve. “I am like, 80% certain I gave you multiple apology blowjobs after we got out of boat prison anyway. This,” he waved his wallet in the air and then raised an eyebrow, “is just me being nice.”

Steve rolled his eyes and threw a stray sock at him in response. “Get me a sesame seed bagel,” he called out as Tony shut the door behind him and then padded back down the corridor.

It took a few seconds for Steve to move from his position against the wall, and when he did, it was only because the advil called out to him.  
The whole fucking trip had been a complete disaster. His head hurt, the boat made him feel claustrophobic, and when he got home, his friends were going to harass him mercilessly about the fact that he’d gotten wasted and stripped naked on the top deck of a first-class cruise.

Tony had been one good part, though. Steve couldn’t really deny that.

He was funny. And nice. And playful, and a goddamn enabler, sure, but… well, Steve couldn’t really deny- that was the first fun he’d had in months. Bucky always told him he worked too hard, and never enjoyed enough things. But last night- as messy as it had been, had also been hilarious, too. He’d met a quite frankly _ridiculously_ hot guy, gotten laid, and then arrested by a rather horrified boat-warden who’d had to shroud him in a tinfoil blanket in order to spare some of Steve’s modesty.

Oh God. Nope- the embarrassment of that particular endeavour was not going to leave him any time soon.

Steve lay back down on his bed and shut his eyes. It looked fairly far into the morning; light was streaming through his windows, and his stomach was rumbling with desire. He hoped Tony would hurry up and come back with food- preferably enough to feed a family of five, because hungover-Steve meant hungry-Steve, and right now his insides were trying to consume themselves in the wait.

He opened up his phone again and looked at the photo Tony had taken, smiling in bemusement. Steve didn’t remember it happening, but Tony had obviously spent some time simply doodling absent-mindedly on him whilst they’d been talking about everything and anything. There was a chemical formula on his left shoulderblade, and then what looked to be some daisies on the other side. It was endearing, seeing how Tony’s brain worked. Steve had figured out within the first ten minutes that the man was a genius- he’d spoken of his own robots and designs so casually, as if it was nothing interesting at all. Steve thought that it was… well, _hot_ barely even described it, but it was also brilliant as well. Definitely far, far more interesting than the creepy lady or annoying dudebros who’d come up to him in the gym in an attempt to one-up him.

He’d known Tony for all of one night, and he was already one of the most interesting things to happen to Steve in the past month.

He spent the next few minutes flicking through his phone, texting friends and checking up his emails. He sighed at the notification from his boss: more deadlines that he was going to have to complete soon, which sucked. Then he was going to have to go over to Sharon’s and help her to move all her stuff into a different apartment next Sunday, which was fine, but also meant that it was going to cut into the time he would usually need to spend working.

Welcome to adult-hood, he thought grimly, as he shut off the phone and checked the time. It made him frown when he realized that twenty minutes had passed. Surely Tony would have been back with the food now? Steve was fucking starving.

He pulled a face, but gave Tony the benefit of the doubt and sank back down on the bed, deciding to get started on a new design for his company logo that his boss had asked him for as he waited. It took up another few minutes, except he couldn’t really focus enough on it- too busy wondering where the hell his breakfast date had gone.

He wouldn’t have just up and left, right? Of course not. It had been Tony who had suggested the idea in the first place. Had he gotten lost?

Steve looked over to the door with a frown. He should’ve taken Tony’s number before the guy had wandered off. He’d probably just gotten distracted or something- Tony seemed like the type, if any of his stories had been anything to go by. Steve could wait a little while longer. It had been- shit, twenty minutes- but maybe the queue was just long.

God, his stomach was going to start eating itself if Tony didn’t hurry his ass up.

Steve finished up the design, threw down the tablet, and then went and pulled on some fresh clothes. After that, he texted Bucky to inform him that yes, he was alive, no, he would not be living the rest of his life as a fugitive. He ate a cracker that he found, for some reason, on his pillow, and although it did literally nothing to curb his hunger, the feeling of eating something at the very least, was comforting.

 

Ultimately, Steve managed to give Tony the benefit of the doubt for another ten minutes before he gave up and accepted what he’d pretty much known after the first fifteen minutes, and had just been attempting not to think about.

Wherever Tony had gone, he wasn’t showing. Apparently, he’d taken a leaf out of pretty much every single one of Steve’s love interests over the past twenty years’ books and simply up and bailed on Steve. He’d even given the obligatory shitty excuse in order to make his escape authentic- but this one was just fucking annoying, because Steve was hungry.

God Dammit. This was great. Absolutely wonderful. Steve _loved_ getting stood up.

God, Tony had been hot, too. _And_ Steve had liked him. He’d… well, he’d kind of hoped that Tony had liked him too, maybe. But apparently not. Because he’d gone out for bagels more than half an hour ago, and Steve hadn’t heard anything of him since. God- how clingy must Steve have been, for Tony to have to make up the excuse of getting breakfast rather than just telling him to fuck off? He was so rusty at this shit; he’d probably been a terrible lay last night, too.

Steve glared a hole into the wall and sighed, grabbing his own wallet irritably. This sucked. This whole trip just fucking sucked.

 

 

 

 

_

 

 

 

 

When he got to the café, the baristas told him that they’d run out of sesame-seed bagels.

Fucking typical.

 

 

 

 

_

 

 

 

 

Steve passed the rest of the day in that same funk. His hangover lingered the way a very annoying stain tended to, and no advil seemed to be making it disappear. The security guards kept staring at him- no doubt they’d all heard about the debacle last night. He could hardly even remember how he’d gotten out of that one. He vaguely remembered being tackled to the floor, and then Tony leaning on his shoulder, giggling hysterically in their cell in the security room. But that was pretty much it for the rest of the night. Tony must have said some pretty convincing things to get them out, but now it did mean that all cruise staff-members were shooting him dirty looks, and Steve wasn’t blind to the occasional glances down to his crotch, either.

Goddamn _Tony_.

Steve hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since that morning. He’d wandered all around the boat, passing time in different places and trying to pretend that he hadn’t been looking out for the man with his gorgeous brown eyes and messy dark hair, but it had been to no avail anyway: Tony hadn’t showed. Steve got the feeling that had been intentional- every other day previously, Steve had managed to get at least a passing glimpse of the other man.

That said a lot about how much Tony wanted to see him.

Jesus, Steve really must have been bad. To actively avoid him after this? Damn. Yeah, okay, maybe Steve had been a little out of practise, but he hadn’t realised he’d been _quite_ so terrible. To the point where Tony was actively attempting to avoid him? That was a bit of an ego-basher.

Not to mention the fact that Tony had been the first nice person Steve had interacted with on this stupid cruise, and in the space of about 8 hours, Steve had managed to drive him into hiding.

Fabulous.

He could admit, he was wallowing a little. But listen- he did _try_ to take his mind off things; he had a shower and put on some of the expensive creams that Nat had bought him for Christmas, and then checked the pool to see if it was empty enough for him to actually get some decent swimming in (answer: no). It didn’t really help, though. He could admit, when he wanted to be sulky, he was _very_ good at it. But in his defence, vacations were supposed to be relaxing, right? This was hardly his fault. He just didn’t… _do_ holidays. He was a working guy. He had no idea how to sit still and relax.

Plus, his mind was too caught up on Tony.

It was weird. He barely even knew the guy- this shouldn’t have upset him as much as it had. It was just… well, they’d talked a lot last night. As well as the sex, Steve had felt a connection, too. Tony was interesting, and he’d laughed when Steve spoke, and his body had fit perfectly into the gaps of Steve’s own. And maybe that sounded stupid, yeah, but what could he say? He was a romantic at heart, and it had just felt as if there could have been something there.

Apparently not, though.

_God, stop being such a whiny baby,_ Steve cursed himself as he leaned against the rails of the top deck and looked out into the murky waters. He was never stepping foot on another boat again, he decided, as he ran a hand through his hair and tried to forcibly will his headache away. _Nothing_ good happened on boats. Only assholes ever went on cruises anyway. And yeah, maybe when they got to the Caribbean Islands, Steve might be able to have a bit more fun- but they were only sticking around for a few days before getting back on the stupid fucking ship again, and once more Steve would just be sitting around, bored shitless on an inescapable vessel full of dickwads.

 _And this is why you don’t drink that many cocktails,_ Steve told himself with a short shake of his head. _Hungover-you is an insufferable bitch._

 

He loitered on the top deck for anther half an hour, eating bar food and watching some sports play on the back wall behind the counter, but finally gave up on being around fellow humans after one of the security staff members wolf-whistled in his direction and then laughed with his fellow staff-buddy. Steve briefly considered throwing him off the boat, but then realized he’d probably get put back in boat-jail for that.

He stuck to giving the guy the middle finger, and walking off with as much pride as a man who had been running naked down a corridor at 4am could possibly muster.

Not a lot, then.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

 

 

 

 

_

 

 

 

 

He stayed in his room and did some more moping until about 8pm. After that, even he got bored. Unfortunately, however, he had no desire to go back onto the top deck and be harassed by creepy people who couldn’t take a hint or get laughed at by staff members who’d probably seen his dick.

He was most decidedly not thinking of anyone whose name sounded even slightly like ‘Tony’. He got some more work done, watched daytime TV, told Peggy to fuck off when she called him just to laugh hysterically for thirty seconds before ending the call, and then went to the gym to punch a bag very angrily for an hour or so. That seemed to sweat out the remainder of his hangover, and when he came back up to his room, he was in a little bit of a better mood.

He didn’t want to spend the whole trip being miserable. He could do that anywhere. But dammit, he’d worked hard to get this trip- and yeah, maybe he’d been more interested in the cash prize rather than the cruise, but hey- he was here now, wasn’t he? And he could be honest with himself- most of what he thought of the inhabitants on this ship came from his own social anxiety and fear of meeting new people. There were probably nice folk here. Way more people like Tony, but without the assholery on the side. He was a young man in the prime of his damn life- if he couldn’t make some friends now, then when the hell could he?

It was just talking. Steve could do that. Talking was… relatively simple.

With his mind made up and his resolve strengthened, he went into the shower and washed, and then pulled on a nicer shirt than one he had been wearing previously. After that, he made sure to style his hair properly, brush his teeth, and even wore his nicest pants and everything. Natasha had given him some fancy cologne, and he sprayed a few bursts of that on him. The bottle said it attracted attention from all areas, which was exactly what Steve wanted. Yep. Absolutely.

He was going to go out again, and he was going to get laid. Because he was hot, and he _could_ , and he refused to sit around like a sulky teenager whose crush hadn’t called back. He was a grown-ass man, and this cruise was supposed to be fun.

He glanced at himself in the mirror and nodded. He was stuck here for at least another four days. Might as well make it worthwhile.

 

 

 

 

_

 

 

 

 

“Your accent’s adorable,” the woman- Erica, Steve remembered- told him with a tinkering laugh, as she leaned forward and swirled the little umbrella in her mojito. “Where’s it from? Eastern seaboard, right?"

Steve nodded and smiled. “Brooklyn,” he informed her, “grown up there my whole life. You?”

She pulled a face. “Idaho. Not that I’d recommend it to anyone. 80% of the population is, like, potatoes.”

That made him laugh, and he looked over to the bar. An hour had passed since he’d first come out of his room, and it had only taken forty of those minutes to psych himself up into talking to the brunette lady who’d been sat on one of the stools watching the game. She was very pretty- and she seemed interested in him, which was great too. Steve totally had this down. Tony wasn’t the only person on the stupid boat who was worth talking to. Erin was just as great too, obviousl-

“Steve?” He blinked, and then turned back to her. She was looking at him with a cocked head and a raised set of eyebrows, as if waiting for him to answer a question.

“Sorry, can you repeat?” He blurted, pulling his attention back to Erin- wait, Erica- wait, fuck, it began with an E-

“I said,” she continued, smiling at him in amusement, “what made you decide to jump on a ship to the Caribbean? Spontaneous decision or something?”

Steve paused, and then the question sunk in. “Oh- uh, I won it. 1st prize in an art competition, actually,” he told her, feeling the small tingle of pride at his words as he sat straighter.

She didn’t seem too interested, though, and simply shrugged and nodded. “Cool,” she said, “I actually came here because I sort of got roped into it by my girlfriends. They’re meeting me at the port when we get there, and then I’m just going to skip the trip back and stay back inland for a few weeks. Mary has a villa out by the beach, and you should see it, Steve, it’s so amazing-“

He nodded and made noises of affirmation as she talked, but felt his mind wandering at the same time. Erica/Erin was nice enough, sure, but he was… well, sort of bored. She seemed to like to talk about herself a lot. How did people move forward in these sorts of things? He knew she was interested- body language told him quite clearly of that- but he had no idea how to proceed from there. Did he just ask her if they wanted to fuck, like the woman had last night when she’d been talking to him? No, that was way too crass. See- when he’d been with Tony, it had been easier, it had sort of just… happened.

But she just kept _talking_ about her stupid villa, and he didn’t really want to interrupt her, but honestly, was a fuck worth this much? He’d already had sex last night, and he was fast losing interest in making it two in a row. Not when it involved having to sit and listen to someone talk about a woman called Mary for thirty minutes, and how she could be a bitch sometimes, but was still the best person Erica/Erin had ever met.

He turned his head, glancing out into the rest of the top deck of the boat, before pulling his eyes back to the woman in front of him and smiling, trying to make sure there was no tightness to it.

 

…And then jerking his immediately back to square one when his brain caught up with his eyes and he realized what, or _who_ , he had just seen.

 

Tony wandered on the side of the boat, eyes scanning everywhere. He seemed as if he was looking for something, and there was a small frown on his face, more subconscious than anything. He slipped from the poolside into the main deck, where all the tables and chairs were set out, and then his head turned from corner to corner.

Who was he looking for?

“-Steve, are you even… wait, who’s that?” Erica/Erin turned her head in the direction Steve was looking, and then her eyes narrowed. “He seems kinda familiar- wait; is he famous or something?”

Steve paused, and then blinked. _Ignore him,_ his mind ordered. _Turn back around. This is a nice girl, and she obviously wants you._

“I-“ he forcibly removed his eyes from Tony’s back, “I- uh, don’t know, never mind. Anyway. Sorry. What were you saying?” He smiled at her encouragingly, and did not think about the person who was currently 20-odd feet away from him, with brown eyes and a warm smile and shitty personality, Christ, he hadn’t even had the decency to say goodbye-

“I feel as if I don’t have your full attention, do I?” Erica/Erin asked, sounding slightly put out. Steve jumped, and then turned back around to her, shaking his head with vigor.

“No, no, you totally-“

Oh course, it was at that moment, apparently, that Tony seemed to spot him. Because he heard his name spoken through that sharp, honey-deep voice; relieved and curious and with an underlying feeling of desperation running through the baseline of it.

Steve froze, and then shut his eyes. This was… this was so goddamn typical. Just his shit luck, doing him a solid once more.

“Steve!” Tony said again, closer that time, “Steve, hey, I’ve been looking for you-“

“ _Looking_ for me?” Steve turned incredulously, unable to help himself, “Since when? Did you get lost on your way to breakfast for-“ he looked down at his watch, “-12 goddamn hours?”

Tony stopped, and his face fell a little as he held up his hands. “Okay, yeah, I know that… that wasn’t great, but I can explain-“

“I don’t want an explanation, thank you,” Steve raised his chin petulantly and turned back to the bar, waving a hand in the direction of the woman he’d been talking to. “I’m in the middle of a conversation with Erica.”

There was a short silence, in which Erica’s face fell into something very unimpressed. Steve mentally face-palmed. Shit. It had been Erin after all, God, it was fifty-fifty, and of _course_ luck would not have been on his side.

“My fucking name is Louise,” she said, before standing up suddenly. She turned on her heel, waiting for a second as if she expected Steve to try and stop her. When he just stared dumbly, she huffed in anger and then marched off without another word.

Steve blinked at the area she had just vacated, his heart sinking.

And then his vision swarmed with Tony, as the man slipped easily into the seat Eric- wait, Louise, _damn_ he’d been far off with that one- had left behind, and Steve snapped back into reality as he scowled over at Tony’s sheepish grin.

“Whoops,” was all Tony said, “my bad.”

Steve glared. “You just lost me sex. Fuck you.”

This time, it was Tony’s face that fell, and he looked back to Louise as she stormed off the corner. “Oh,” he said, a little quietly, “you- uh- you were gonna…”

“What did you think I was doing, just making smalltalk about a stupid Caribbean beach-house for the sake of it?” Steve rolled his eyes irritably and then turned away, facing the bar where the football game played on. He sighed. “What do you want, Tony?”

Tony seemed as if the rug had been pulled under him rather swiftly, as he blinked from Steve to the corner that Louise had just turned. “I… I wanted to explain. For ditching you this morning. Dick move, I know.” He shrugged sheepishly and then fiddled with a napkin on the tabletop, not looking in Steve’s direction.

“No shit,” Steve said rather snappily, leaning his chin onto his hand and glaring at the wall. “I waited for nearly an hour for you to come back with breakfast. I was fucking starving. If you wanted to ditch, you could’ve at least been honest. I wouldn’t have minded.” _Much_ , he wanted to add, the memories of Tony’s laughter flitting briefly through his mind.

Tony shook his head, though, and it made Steve turn in curiosity. “No no, nooo,” Tony waved his hands through the air, eyes wide, “No, no way- I wasn’t ditching. I promise. I’m not that much of a dick. I asked you if you wanted breakfast, remember?”

Steve just huffed non-committedly. “And then you left and never showed back up again.”

At his side, Tony was tense to the point of near-vibration. For the first time, Steve noticed what Tony was wearing. It was a suit- his hair was combed back neatly, and it looked as if he’d shaved his beard down into something sharper. And although by this point in the night, the suit was far more creased, and Tony had rolled his sleeves up to the elbow and let his tie hang loose around his neck, he still looked as if he’d just spent a long day at meetings or something.

Tony shot him a slightly nervous look, and then he smiled weakly. “Do you recognize who I am, Steve?” He asked- and it sounded more exhausted than arrogant, which threw Steve a little.

He narrowed his eyes and pulled a face. “What is that supposed to mean? _Should_ I recognize who you are?”

Steve watched as Tony just sighed, and then let his head rest on the countertop. His hand waved through the air. “Probably,” Tony muttered, before pulling himself upright again and smiling tightly. “Okay, so basically, I was half-way back to your room with two of the last sesame seed bagels in-hand, and then suddenly my phone starts blowing up. I… let’s just say I run a pretty big company, okay? And it turns out that this morning, there was a huge corporate fucking disaster. Like, I’m talking colossal. Shit hitting the fan, babies screaming, Pepper having aneurysms, all that.” Tony sighed and then pulled his tie completely off his neck, wrapping it absently around his knuckles.

Steve frowned, watching as Tony continued to wrap and unwrap the tie from his hands. He did look very tense, even Steve could see as much. “And so- what, you had to go and sort it all out, then?”

“Yeah,” Tony sighed, before slipping off the barstool fluidly and looking to Steve in question. “Can we walk? Sorry, I’ve just been sat in my cabin all day. I think I’m a little delirious.”

Steve paused, debating it. He had been mad at Tony less than two minutes ago- and then he’d gone and lost Steve his date for the night, too. But Tony seemed sincere. And in all honesty, Steve hadn’t really been that into Louise anyway. Proved by the fact that he hadn’t actually been able to remember even the first letter of her name.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve said, shrugging and sliding off the stool with Tony. The man smiled at him gratefully, and Steve had the full intention of just looking away, but before he could tell his face to do that, his mouth decided to act of its own accord and smile back at him. Traitor.

“Okay, so anyway, continuing,” Tony said as they started wandering away from the reaches of the bar and music that filtered from it. “I had to dash back to my room and get on a video conference with the board members. I couldn’t leave. It lasted four damn hours.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “wow,” he breathed, “shit really must have gone down.”

Tony just sighed, running a hand through his hair. He let his fingers trail over the railings of the boat, and Steve watched as his clothes wavered slightly in the breeze. He looked rather beautiful like that, Steve thought idly.

“After that, it was just more phone calls and emails and trying to put out the fires,” Tony continued, before turning his head to Steve and shrugging. “By the time I was free, it was 7 in the evening. I was starving and tired and still kinda hungover. I can admit, I had a whole box of crackers and then just fell straight asleep.”

Steve barked out a short laugh, shaking his head at the mental image of Tony, splayed out in his huge bed in the Armani suit, cracker crumbs everywhere as he snored. “Jeeze, Tony. Sounds like a fun day.”

Tony just nodded, face tight as he looked over to Steve. “I am sorry,” he said, sounding completely sincere, “I just- I swear, I had zero time, everything got so hectic and- yeah, sorry for being an asshole. Hey- I’m sure if you went back to the bar you could, uh, pick someone else up. Guy like you will get eaten up by everyone, so-“

“Nah,” Steve shook his head, smiling softly. He could feel the relief, tangible in his gut. Tony _hadn’t_ actually ditched him- at least, not on purpose. “They’re all boring anyway.” He paused where he was walking, turning to Tony and leaning against the rails. They were at the very back of the boat by that point, and the sounds of everyone else were merely distant murmurings. It was dark and quiet, and when Steve looked up, a thousand stars glinted back at him.

Tony stopped as well, looking over to Steve with a nervous smile. “Sorry for crashing your thing with that girl,” he said, looking the absolute opposite of apologetic.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Tony, I couldn’t even remember her name.”

“Yeah, but you said- the sex and stuff, sorry, I hate when I get cockblocked and I didn’t mean-“

Steve leaned over and kissed him, hands coming up to frame his face as their mouths met. It was relatively short and fast, but Steve kept his face close when he broke away, smiling down at Tony dopily. “In all honesty?” He began softly, his thumb brushing across the exposed line of Tony’s jaw, “I was kinda hoping I’d get the chance to score with someone else again.”

Tony blinked, but then his face broke out into a smile and he stepped closer, hands wrapping around Steve’s waist, the tips of his fingers just brushing under Steve’s shirt and flitting across the exposed line of each hip-bone. “That so?”

“Mm hm,” Steve murmured, leaning down again, unable to resist. Damn, his feelings toward Tony over the past 24 hours sure had been hectic. From intrigued, to fond, to angry, to annoyed, and then right back around to square one again. He was glad of it, though. Now that he knew Tony hadn’t actually been standing him up, that re-opened a whole other bracket of options that Steve had shut firmly earlier that morning. Which was pretty great.

Also, kissing Tony was… very good. Very _very_ good. Especially when he was sober, and could appreciate it a little better.

It was different to what it had been last night. Then, they’d been wasted and sloppy and too horny to care- more of a crushing of mouths which had definitely been hot, but somewhat lacking in finesse. This time, though, it was slower. Tony’s head moved sideways, fitting into Steve’s easily as he pushed up and licked into Steve’s mouth, tongue teasing across his bottom lip. He did, as a matter of fact, taste like crackers- which just proved Tony had been telling the truth.

Steve made a soft noise in the back of his throat as he felt Tony’s leg slide between his own, and when the other man rolled his hips upward whilst his hands simultaneously pulled Steve’s neck down and further into Tony’s mouth, the small noise in the back of Steve’s throat turned into an outright groan. He slipped his hands from Tony’s jaw to his shoulders, then trailed them down his spine until reaching his ass. With a smooth heft, he’d pushed Tony against the railings, and then broke away from Tony’s rather addictive mouth to latch onto his neck instead. He had a beautiful neck, in Steve’s opinion. So long and graceful and Jheeze, he could probably take Steve all the way down-

“We’re gonna get yelled at by the boat wardens again,” Tony murmured into his hair, whilst making absolutely no move to break away, and instead just tilted his head further back, giving Steve better room to suck a mark against the tender warmth of Tony’s skin.

“Throw ‘em overboard,” Steve muttered uncaringly, as his hand squeezed against Tony’s (quite frankly amazing) ass. Tony whined, his leg rising up and curling around Steve’s waist. Getting the message quickly, Steve grabbed the back of his knee with a firm hand and then pushed, until Tony sat on the railings with both his legs wrapped firmly around Steve’s waist.

Steve decided he’d changed his mind again. Cruises were the best. Especially _this_ cruise, in fact.

“Take me back to your room and fuck me senseless, please,” Tony breathed harshly, as his teeth nipped teasingly at the shell of Steve’s ear.

“My pleasure,” Steve responded quickly, beginning to let go of Tony’s legs in order for the man to let himself down off the railings.

 

Of course, God wasn’t done fucking with him yet.

 

Tony’s legs had just loosened from around Steve’s waist when there was suddenly a huge fizzing noise, and then the sound of a colossal explosion almost directly up above them. Light exploded around them very suddenly, bathing Tony in a sharp purple-ish fluorescence, and both of them yelled in complete surprise, jumping sharply.

Which, you know, wasn’t a great idea, considering he was currently balanced on the edge of a railing that hung over the edge of a ship in the middle of the ocean.

Too late, Steve realized the mistake. It had been a firework, because they were putting on a display as a part of the entertainment- but the fact was that both of them had jerked rather wildly in response to it, and Tony was not in the best position to be doing that just then.

 _“SonofaBi-“_ was all Steve heard.

Tony toppled off the edge of the fucking cruise liner before he could finish his sentence.

 

 

 

 

_

 

 

 

 

Fifteen minutes later, Steve sat down awkwardly on the bench in boat jail, looking over to Tony, who was wrapped in a tinfoil sheet, and with damp hair plastered to his skull.

 

Tony had been very lucky. The cruise liner was small, and so the fall hadn’t been too drastic, and Tony hadn’t broken anything. And because they were close to the coastline of the Caribbean by that point, the water hadn’t been appallingly cold either. Steve, obviously, had called for help immediately, so Tony had only had to float around for ten minutes before a rescue boat had gone out to fetch him- not too bad, all things considered.

“I am never going on a cruise again,” Tony declared, his eyes on the security staff members outside the bars of their little cell. When they’d had to explain the reason for Tony managing to fall over the pretty high railings of the ship, they’d received many utterly unimpressed looks, a few fingers that pointed in the direction of the multiple signs running across all areas of the ship that read: _‘strictly no climbing’_ , and then, once more, been carted off to the boat prison. And this time, Steve figured they weren’t going to be so lenient. “Not ever. Nothing will physically make me set foot on one of these things again.”

Steve laughed, looking down into his lap. “Agreed,” he said, nodding. “At least their jails are nicer than normal ones, though.”

Tony stopped, before turning to him suddenly. Steve got salt water flicked into his face by Tony’s curls “You’ve been _arrested_?” He asked incredulously, and shit, Steve forgot that most people didn’t know what the inside of your average jail-cell looked like.

“Uh,” Steve began, shrugging as casually as he could, “I used to get into fights a lot when I was a scrap of nothing. Usually with people twice my age and height. Although, that makes it sound like I stopped doing that. I haven’t. Now I just win them, so I don’t get caught because I’m in a good enough state to be able to flee the scene.” Steve paused, suddenly realizing how ominous that sounded. He raised his hands. “Okay, wait, just let me- that sounds really shitty, but it’s… there are just a lot of creeps out there, alright? Sometimes they’re guys who won’t leave girls alone, sometimes they’re bigots on the street, I dunno- I sorta attract ‘em, what can I say?” He pursed his lips and silently cursed himself. God, trust him to describe the most disturbing part of his personality to the one guy he was actually more than just passively interested in.

Tony, however, just looked at him with something undeniably _fond_ on his face, and he huffed out a tired laugh. “Of course you do,” he said softly, and then Steve felt it as Tony rested his damp head against Steve’s shoulder. “What else could I possibly have expected from someone like you?”

“Someone like me? What’s someone like me _like_ , exactly?”

“Inherently good,” Tony answered promptly, simply, and it took the breath out of Steve’s lungs just a little bit. He tilted his head down to Tony, who was resting the back of his head against the jut of Steve’s shoulder and staring up at the ceiling through tired eyes. Steve was hit with a wave of something soft, curling over his heart like a blanket. Tony was kind of amazing- and this was only after knowing him for about 24 hours. Of course, in those 24 hours, he’d also bee sent to pseudo-jail twice, which should really ring off some warning bells in his head. But Steve couldn’t really find it in himself to care much.

Tony was the most fun he’d had in a while. He’d like to hold onto that, if he could.

 

“Hey, so, you’re not like… perilously afraid of flying or heights or anything, are you?” Tony asked suddenly, after a few minutes of silence. He tilted his head up a little bit further and looked at Steve, who just shook his head.

“No,” Steve answered, frowning a little. “Why do you ask?”

Tony shuffled around on his butt a little, and then tilted his head to look over at the other side of the room. “Because,” he said, “I _think_ that our ride is here. Could be wrong. But it sounds like that might be-”

Before Tony got the end of his sentence, there was a sharp knock on the door of the security room. A few of the staff looked at one another in confusion, before one of them stood up warily and then wandered over. Steve frowned, and then tilted his head over to Tony. But the man just grinned, and wiggled his eyebrows as he turned back in the direction of the door.

The security guard opened the door, and two men in dark suits stood on the other end, their hands clasped in front of them.

Steve briefly wondered whether he’d accidentally been fucking a mob boss. That would probably be going a little _too_ far, even for him.

But then Tony sat up away from Steve’s shoulder and smiled, waving a hand in their direction. “Steve, meet two wonderful employees of mine, Brian and Arnold. These two fine gentlmane have come to immediately evacuate me from the ship due to the current crisis going on in my company. I am immediately required to attend several high-importance meetings, and _obviously_ , due to the fact that you are my new PA-” he raised his eyebrows and jerked his head pointedly in the direction of the security guards who were now listening in to their conversation in bewilderment, and Steve quickly got the message. “-you have to come with me. Right now.”

Tony was getting him out. Of… the entire cruise, it seemed. Not that Steve was complaining, mind you. This place fucking sucked.

“Oh,” Steve said, beginning to nod as he attempted to hide his smile, “oh, yeah, obviously. I’ll have to get my things packed immediately.”

Tony nodded his agreement and sighed dramatically, turning to the two men. “Can one of you head to my room and collect my things. Cabin 403, if you tell the receptionist you’re here on behalf of Tony Stark and show your credentials, I’m sure they’ll get you a key.”

Steve frowned at the last name, something sparking in his memories. That sounded like a familiar last name. That was… wait…

“Oh my God,” he blurted suddenly, head whipping around to face Tony, “you’re-“

The words of disbelief were on the tip of his tongue, but he held them back just in time, because the security staff were still watching in suspicion and slight disbelief, and Steve probably wouldn’t look very convincing if he admitted he’d not even known the last name of his apparent boss.

His boss, who was Tony Fucking Stark. One of the richest men in the world. Oh Jesus. Oh dear fucking God.

Tony shot him a warning look, and then turned it smoothly into a smile. “I’m taking you out on my helicopter, yes, I know it’s your first time riding one, but desperate measures, you know.” He shrugged and then winked, before standing up smoothly and leaning against the bars.

Steve watched as Tony talked his way, yet again, into freedom, and as he took Steve’s hand and tugged him out, Steve realized why he was so good at it. It as what he did for a damn living. He sold his story, which was, to some extent, true- Tony’s business was indeed in trouble, and needed his immediate attention. The part about him needing Steve to be involved, however, was all bullshit- except it didn’t _sound_ like that when Tony told the story to the guards.

In the end, it took all of ten minutes for Tony to convince the security staff to let them out once more- the final nail in the coffin was Tony's employees returning with Tony’s case of things at the very same moment that one of the staff got called by the captain to say there’d been an emergency helicopter landing on the pad, and they were asking for an immediate evac on one of their passengers.

Tony sat and grinned throughout the entire procedure, whilst Steve just stared in disbelief.

When the guards finally, and with a lot of huffing and annoyance, opened their jail cell once more, Tony quickly grabbed Steve’s hand and started tugging him forward. “Come on, PA,” He said cheerily, “we have to go and pack all your things. Chop chop.”

Steve laughed, utterly bewildered. Tony pushed him out of the door, and then turned back to all the security staff. “Thanks for your cooperation,” he said, waving, “I really think this is the best decision for everyone, honestly. God knows what we would’ve done if we’d stayed here any longer.”

Steve stifled a slightly hysterical laugh in his hand, and then let Tony push him back down the corridor again, giggling like a child. They made it to his room in record time, stuffing all his shit into his suitcase and then just carrying the rest in their arms, unable to be bothered spending time packing it all up properly.

“Are you really whisking me away on your private helicopter?” Steve asked him as he pulled on his jacket and grabbed his wallet from the tabletop.

Tony winked. “Well, what were the other options? Staying on this shitty cruise for another half a week? No thank you.”

"How did you even get in touch with them?" 

"Got a branch out in Florida. I made a few calls after they fished me out of the Atlantic."

Steve shook his head incredulously and then ended up dropping all the things he’d just picked up as Tony suddenly leaned up and kissed him silly, hands pushing him up against the wall with enthusiasm. Steve was pretty sure the fact that he was about to hop on a helicopter with a billionaire he’d met 24 hours ago wasn’t quite sinking in yet, but he couldn’t really say he cared, either. This was far more fun than spending time looking at endless miles of sea, in all honesty.

It was about midnight when Steve stepped onto the large helicopter; the _StarkIndustries_ logo plastered on the tail of it and reminding Steve just who he was flying with. He turned to Tony, shaking his head in fond disbelief. “So,” he said, as he sat down in front of the man, “Tony Stark, huh?”

“I’m just surprised you didn’t recognize me, honestly,” Tony shrugged and looked down, something a little sad flashing over his features for a moment. “Usually people- uh, well, it either puts them off or sends them into a frenzy. So. I’m sort of glad? That you didn’t. You know. Know who I was. Nice to be treated like I was normal for a change.”

Steve reached out, and gently took his hand. “Nothing’s changed on that front,” he assured Tony gently, “I’ll still treat you like a crazy asshole who keeps getting me sent to prison.”

“It’s _boat prison_ , that’s like the nautical equivalent of a time-out corner.”

Steve chuckled, looking out of the window of the massive black helicopter as it lifted slowly into the sky. “I cannot believe this is happening,” he declared, “I feel like I’m going to wake up and it’ll be morning, and this whole day will have just been a drunken dream.”

“Yeah,” Tony shrugged, “I guess it’s not every day the guy you’re about to have sex with falls of the side of a boat, gets sent to jail with you, and then bails you out using fast-talking and a helicopter to whisk you away back home.”

“No,” Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and smiling toward Tony, “I can’t say it is.”

Tony looked at him for a moment, before a slow smile lifted onto his face. He glanced behind him, at the closed doors of the cockpit, and then turned to Steve. “You know,” he began, raising an eyebrow as he tilted upward and pressed a small kiss to Steve’s mouth, “they won’t come out until we’ve landed which will be in-“ a quick check to his phone, and then, “-four hours.”

“Are you suggesting we kill some time?” Steve asked him innocently, “because I’ve got travel scrabble.”

Tony stared at him for a flat second, before both of them burst out laughing. Delirious, tired laughter that was far too loud to be normal- but hey, what part of any of this was normal? Steve was probably going to have to get used to this.

He wasn’t going to lie- he was kind of looking forward to that.

Tony stood up, took a step, and then sat back down, this time on Steve’s lap. His hands curled around the back of Steve’s neck, and Jesus, he was still damp from the impromptu swim in the ocean. Steve took an experimental lick of his neck- and yep, yep, that was very salty. Still hot, though.

“Oh,” Tony breathed, a wicked smile on his face. “I am going to have _so_ much fun with you, Steve Rogers.”


End file.
